


The Leaky Cauldron

by grim_lupine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Richard Jury - Martha Grimes
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Auror Potter. Well, isn’t this lucky,” Draco Malfoy says, setting his book aside and smiling up at Harry winningly. (Richard Jury fusion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Leaky Cauldron

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pageleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/gifts).



> This is a short ficlet for [](http://pageleaf.livejournal.com/profile)[**pageleaf**](http://pageleaf.livejournal.com/)’s birthday, which is tomorrow, because she and I have been talking about writing this for forever. :D This is a [Richard Jury](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Jury) fusion, where Harry is sort of Richard and Draco is sort of Melrose. It’s also an AU: neither Harry nor Draco are well-known, and they knew each other vaguely at school but never really talked.

-

\--

“’lo, Tom,” Harry says, tearing one of his gloves off with his teeth as he approaches the bar. “Heard you found a surprise in your cellar?”

“That I did,” Tom says, looking a little uneasy. “And I’d just as soon you move him, if you please. Bodies in my cellar—not quite a draw for customers.”

“I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m done looking,” Harry promises. “Now, his name was Dedalus Diggle, and he was here the other night, wasn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Tom says. “Seemed cheerful enough, drank healthily. It’s a shame. I do wish he’d found somewhere else to be murdered, though.” Harry nods sympathetically, digging in his pockets for his quill. “Oh, and you’re in luck—I didn’t see who was sitting at the table nearest him, but Lisa took care of that side, and she says he’s here again tonight. Mentioned his ‘icy gray eyes’ and that he ordered an elf-made wine. Don’t suppose that sounds familiar to you?”

Harry stops in his tracks. “Is that so?” he asks, lifting his eyebrow as Tom grins a little. Gray eyes and a penchant for elf-made wine. He really should have known.

Ten minutes later, Harry’s standing in front of the table in the corner, eyeing its occupant sternly.

“Auror Potter. Well, isn’t this lucky,” Draco Malfoy says, setting his book aside and smiling up at Harry winningly.

Harry sighs with much put-upon exasperation, only about half of which is real. “You know, if you were anyone else, I’d have taken you in as a serial killer by now for as often as you turn up at my crime scenes.”

“But?” Draco prods expectantly.

“But I happen to know that you just have an unbelievable knack for stumbling into trouble,” Harry finishes dryly, and throws his cloak over the chair that’s across from Draco’s.

“You can’t say I’m not helpful,” Draco points out, self-assured and charming, and the hell of it is that he _is_ helpful. He’d been a Slytherin, after all, born to a line of Slytherins before him—he’d probably been fed cunning alongside his mother’s milk. Harry values his perspective, though he’ll hold back on telling him so just yet.

“I think I can,” Harry says. “Let’s get your statement so you can be done as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, please don’t hurry on my account. You’re saving me from another visit from Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco says, shuddering delicately. “If I’m not at home she can’t come over; every time she does, I can never get her to leave.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Harry says dryly, though having met Bellatrix more than once, he understands the attitude. “All right, you know how this goes.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me join your investigation?” Draco says, leaning forward and trying to eye Harry’s notes upside down. “We profligate members of the upper-class are so fond of murder.”

“Is that a confession?” Harry asks blandly, and watches Draco’s tiny smirk deepen. Most people seem to be under the impression that Harry doesn’t have a sense of humor. He likes that Draco sees differently.

“A confession to having generations of questionable ancestors, perhaps,” Draco says. “You know about my great-great-uncle Aloysius.”

“No, I don’t, and that was not an invitation to tell me,” Harry says hastily as Draco opens his mouth. “Now, if I get a clear and helpful account of what you remember from three nights ago, I will consider letting you help.”

“Oh, joy,” Draco breathes, mouth still curved in a smirk, and steeples his fingers under his chin as Harry bites down on a helpless grin.

\--

-


End file.
